


All My Life is Regret, Save You

by Meilan_Firaga



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, F/M, Fix-It, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27183646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: Jaime Lannister rode south, but not because of his love for Cersei. His life was full of regrets, and unfortunately he only found more of them in the capitol. In the wake of that choice he must figure out how to keep going with what remains of his life.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Fic In A Box





	All My Life is Regret, Save You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coaldustcanary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaldustcanary/gifts).



The barren woods at the north end of the Riverlands were frigid, spindly trees standing starkly against the blanket of white snow that coated the ground as far as the eye could see. The wind out of the North was bitter, as though it carried the sorrows of what living were left beyond the Neck on every winding breeze. Sorrows caused by loss of life, by the cruelty of winter, by the choices of the living… Jaime Lannister knew all about the sorrow the choices of the living could cause. He could taste the sorrow he’d left in his wake as the wind stung his face.

He’d stopped counting how many days he’d been on the road. On his furious ride south the number of days was a constant ticking count in his mind, turning over with every sunrise. He’d rushed headlong down the Kingsroad until he actually managed to catch up to the hosts of the Dragon Queen’s army, then had skirted as far around them as he could. Armies are slow—a fact that gave him a very distinct advantage. Even riding miles out of his way to keep away from the eyes of the scouts he could outpace them with little trouble. He passed them by before they even reached the Trident, rode hard for King’s Landing, and took a series of back alleys to the Red Keep.

What a mistake it had been, thinking he should ride south in the first place.

He shivered in spite of himself, wrapped even as he was in a thick woolen cloak and furs he’d stolen from Cersei’s personal collection. He couldn’t see the sun for the thick gray clouds, but the growing darkness told him it was fast approaching the horizon. It was past time to camp for the night. He found a clearing and swung down from the saddle, gathering the cloak and furs tighter about his shoulders while he set about making camp. His tent was barebones, but he made sure to set it up against a large oak trunk where he tethered the horse. With any luck the beast would settle against the tent wall and lend him some of its warmth.

He didn’t stoke much of a fire, eager not to draw too much attention should anyone pass too close to the clearing he’d chosen. He gnawed on dried rations instead and turned in early, trying to keep the weariness from sinking into his bones along with the cold. As exhausted as he was, though, he couldn’t keep out the memories of the Red Keep. He dragged the furs over his head, curling in on himself in a way he hadn’t done since he was child. Whispering to himself against the fabric, he repeated stories that Tyrion used to tell him—tales of brothels and farm animals and drunken shenanigans. Anything to drown out Cersei’s voice ringing in his ears, her hatefulness proving to him once again that he’d still managed to underestimate how far she could sink. 

But the bitch was persistent, and nothing could keep her at bay forever.

_ ~*~*~*~*~*~ _

He made it through the gates of the Red Keep and the first two guard patrols before anyone spotted him. It was a feat that made him absolutely livid. Some of the men had served with him before, and their familiarity might excuse letting him walk free, but the same couldn’t be said for all of them. Those that didn’t recognize him should absolutely have stopped a strange man stalking through the keep fully armed and filthy from the road. It was insulting at best (perhaps they thought he wasn’t a threat) and dangerous no matter how he looked at it. The handful of guards that finally stopped him in one of the halls were men that served under his command on the supply line from Highgarden. Even they still tugged the black glove from his golden hand to be certain before he was taken immediately to the queen. 

Cersei, as it turned out, was less than pleased to see him.

“I knew you’d come crawling back,” she sneered over a glass of red wine, “but I admit I didn’t expect to see you until after we turned up victorious over the Targaryen girl.”

She sat behind a sturdy oak table, armored pauldrons clipped over the shoulders of her severe black gown. The thin circlet atop her head seemed even more foreboding than the last time he’d stood before her. Then he had declared that he would fight as she’d promised for the sake of his honor and the living. Now he stood before her ready to beg if it meant he could see to the safety of her and their child once more. He very deliberately did not think of the cold nights at Winterfell and another woman with short blonde hair.

“I’d be impressed if you weren’t so likely to be assassinated,” he told her, raising a judgemental eyebrow. “I was already well into the castle before any of your guards thought to stop me, and I know full well that most of them weren’t familiar with my face.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “A minor oversight that will shortly be remedied.”

“Daenerys Targaryen’s armies are mere days behind me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “They are weakened from the battle against the dead, but there are still thousands of them. And the dragons.” He took a deep breath, staring directly into her eyes. She hardly blinked, continuing to sip from her glass. “You have lots of men, but none that know their numbers and strategies like I do. Let me keep you and our baby safe one more time.”

“Our baby,” Cersei repeated, staring at him with an expression he knew very well. She was about to point out how incredibly stupid he was. “Did you really think I would let your spawn grow in my belly after you betrayed me?” She pushed her chair back from the table and stood. Her black gown fell in smooth, uninterrupted lines, nipped in tightly at her very narrow waist. “Qyburn helped me purge that nuisance the moment you rode out of the gates.”

_ ~*~*~*~*~*~ _

“There was a child.”

Ser Brienne froze where she stood beneath Winterfell’s heart tree, her heart thudding against the inside of her ribcage. The sun was still in the process of setting and faint orange rays of light still peeked over the walls surrounding the godswood. She didn’t dare to turn around. She would know that voice— _ his voice _ —anywhere. She’d never hoped to hear it again.

“Or, well, there was supposed to be.” He sounded tired, a bone deep weariness beyond the exhaustion of the road. “I should have known better.”

His footsteps crunched in the snow. She could practically feel him as he moved across the open space surrounding the heart tree. He stopped just on the edge of her peripheral vision, a tall figure cloaked in worn furs and sadness. Brienne clenched her jaw, fighting not to turn and see him more fully.

“I fathered three children, but I was never really a father to any of them. Joffrey was a monster. Even I avoided him. Tommen, sweet as he could be, was always too soft to hold my attention.” From the corner of her eye she could see him fidget, his fingers tugging at the cuff that fell over his golden hand. “Only Myrcella knew. When she told me she said she was glad that I was her father, and then she died in my arms.” There were unshed tears in the crack in his voice. “I never realized I wanted to be a father before that moment. Holding my dead little girl, murdered because of our family’s mistakes.”

Jaime sighed and folded down to sit on a patch of snow before he continued. “I thought if I could just do right by this one, maybe I could make up for how spectacularly I’d failed the others. How foolish of me, to believe she’d keep our baby when she couldn’t use it to control me anymore. Particularly with Qyburn by her side.”

Brienne closed her eyes as realization flooded her mind. Of all the terrible things she believed Cersei to be capable of, she’d somehow never imagined that she might kill her own child. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There were stories about Cersei’s first child, one actually fathered by Robert. Supposedly the boy had died of a fever, but the rumor was that Cersei had refused to raise the son of a man she hated so badly. So, yes, Brienne had always been sure the other woman was capable of making that choice. She’d just never thought she’d do it to her child by Jaime. She opened mouth to say…  _ something _ . She wasn’t sure exactly what, but he continued before she could speak.

“I thought I could walk away, that I could give up the chance to be a father again if it meant fighting to keep my child safe.” He took a deep breath, and she could see his shoulders sag when he exhaled. “But then I lived through The Long Night. The dead came, the dead fell, and I was still standing when the sun rose. I didn’t expect to make it. So, I tried to figure out how to live after it.”

She wasn’t sure when she turned. She was even less sure when she crossed the space between them, but Brienne found herself dropping to one knee in the snow barely the length of a spear from Jaime’s huddled form. He’d drawn his knees up to his chest, both arms wrapped tightly around them. Closer or not, she still didn’t speak. She’d spoken enough before he rode out the gates and left her standing in the cold. There was a lot more he needed to say to earn her words.

“I don’t want you to think it could have been anyone. You’re the only—” he cut himself off, frowning at his kneecaps while he tried to find the right thing to say. “Since I was a boy there’s never been a woman besides Cersei that could make me look twice. Not until you. I had to fight desire for you all the way back at Harrenhall. When I didn’t die and I was so sure I couldn’t go back I… Well, I couldn’t think of any more reasons to keep fighting it.”

“But you left.” Her voice was hoarse, straining against the storm of emotion raging in her chest. “You still left.”

He finally looked at her, blue eyes wide and dark and wrought with pain. “I had to,” he croaked. “Not for her. I know what she is. Was. It was never for her, but that baby.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t leave another child there with her. I couldn’t walk away from that again. Not when there was a chance I could do better by them than I’d done by the ones that came before.”

He moved faster than she ever would have expected of him, crossing the space between them on his knees in the space of three heartbeats. He wrapped his hand around one of her own, physically pleading with her to look him in the eye. Brienne’s heart leapt into her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

“I regret so much of my life, Brienne,” he insisted, gloved hand tightening over her own, “but the only thing I regret about you is that I walked away.” He laughed, a brittle, despondent sort of thing. “It occurred to me on the long trek back that I should have asked you to come with me. To ask you to help me take my child and leave. I didn’t want Cersei to be their sole influence. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to just take them from her completely. Not that it matters, obviously.”

“Of course it matters.” In one smooth motion, Brienne stood, using her grip on his hand to pull him to his feet as well. “It makes all the difference in the world. I understand why you did what you did. And I do forgive you.” She pulled him close, twisting her other hand into the front of his jerkin. With a determined yank, she hauled him off his feet, brought them nose to nose, and  _ snarled _ . “But if you think that explanation is enough to earn your way back into my bed you are a bigger fool than I thought.”

Without another word she dropped him back to the ground and stomped out of the godswood. Stunned, Jaime sat there in the snow, blinking at her determined retreat with his mouth wide open. By the time she disappeared through the stone arch and stomped into the castle his gobsmacked expression had morphed into the beginnings of a smile. It wasn’t the best reunion, but he now knew for certain that he at least had a chance.


End file.
